


reach out and pass it on

by takeawalkwithme



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Ambiguity, Douglas might be some kind of bastard, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeawalkwithme/pseuds/takeawalkwithme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Very good, that makes it easier for me. For one minute I thought I'd have to spare your feelings. I haven't only been playing the captain at home, you see, I've also been playing with him. In the flight deck. And the loo. And the portacabin.” Except for the loo bit, this was actually true. Though not the way he made it out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> following a prompt on the meme asking for:
> 
> "When Helena confessed she's been having an affair with the tai chi instructor, Douglas, not to be outdone, blurted out that he's been having one as well. And since he really loved Helena and would have never cheated on her, he had a rare moment of panic when she asked about his mistress... so he used the first name he could think of - Martin.  
> Some time later, the tai chi instructor (now Helena's fiance) hires MJN Air to fly them to their wedding destination (idk, he's a really rich tai chi instructor), unaware of the fact that her ex-husband is the pilot. When Douglas sees how happy they are together, he enlists Martin's very unwilling help to show them that he is better off without Helena as well."
> 
> original thread can be found here:  
> http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4207.html?thread=6078063#cmt6078063
> 
> The title is blatantly stolen from Emeli Sandé's 'Wonder'.

“Helena, darling, I have to tell you something.” Douglas told his wife. It was one of the rare occasions where he knew that telling a pretty little white lie would not make the situation better, because a pretty little white lie had brought him here in the first place.

“You know how the MJN Christmas party is coming up and how you were really excited to meet my colleagues?” Friends, really. Though he wouldn't tell them. It would give them an unfair advantage.

“Yes, dear, what about it?” Helena replied, smiling at him. She was a beautiful woman, long, wavy brown hair, heart-shaped face that even in her mid-40s could still be called pretty and a trim body that would make a woman half her age envious.

He could tell her the party was off, but they were married, for christ's sake. She wouldn't leave him just because he wasn't Captain of MJN. If anything, being in that position would be more depressing, it would mean he'd really made an effort for that position. 

He inhaled, nervous for the first time in... ages, actually. “I haven't been completely honest with you, ma chère.” 

“Douglas, what...?” 

“Please, it's not that big a deal. Let's not make it one before you know what the issue is. You see, when I started working at MJN, I applied for the Captain's seat, naturally, because I've been one before. However, due to unforeseen circumstances” - he could be making fun of Martin here, but it didn't feel right - “that job was eventually offered to Martin. Who is, and has been for the last few years, Captain of MJN Air. So, when you assumed, I didn't correct you, which was wrong of me and I profoundly apologise. Sometimes it isn't easy to make myself vulnerable and I hope you can forgive me.” he finished, looking at his wife calmly. It was out, it hadn't been that bad, though he didn't feel oddly relieved afterwards, just – exposed. 

Helena stared back at him. For a second, she looked as if she was trying to suppress a giggle, then she was serious again. “You know, Douglas, I really wouldn't have minded. To be honest, I could care less which job you have, I'm glad you have one you love, no matter if it's Captain or First Officer. But all this lying? Do you really think I'm this petty?”

Women. Of course. You confess something and somehow they make it about them. 

Helena sighed. “Well, if we're confessing now... I also have something to tell you. I've been trying to gather the courage for some time. I really didn't want to, I'm so sorry, but... I mean, your obvious misconception of my priorities do prove something I've been thinking...” She broke off, apparently trying to straighten her next sentences before exclaiming timidly: “Douglas, I've been having an affair. With Sebastian. And...Oh, Douglas, I'm so sorry, I really hoped we could work out, but I think I'm leaving you.”

For a minute or two he wasn't able to do anything except stare at her disbelievingly. He'd expected understanding, maybe a row, followed by marvellous make-up sex, but not _this_. 

Whenever he'd played out this particular scenario in his head, he'd always assumed he'd be shouting himself hoarse, smashing vases and plates like the male lead in a mediocre romantic dramedy.

In reality, he did none of that. Instead, he looked into Helena's eyes (hurt, sorry, but also nothing but the truth) and answered, voice not wavering, but icy.

“Very good, that makes it easier for me. For one minute I thought I'd have to spare your feelings. I haven't only been playing the captain at home, you see, I've also been playing with him. In the flight deck. And the loo. And the portacabin.” Except for the loo bit, this was actually true. Though not the way he made it out to be.

“You mean... You and Martin? All this time?” She was close to tears. Absurd, really, considering she'd started the whole cheating thing. Even if she didn't know that.

“Yes, me and Martin. All this time. Even gave me his spare epaulettes. He was amazed, really, at how gullible you are.” All of his hurt pride was spat out at these last words. Screw nice, sensitive Douglas; if their marriage was going down like this, he wanted to slash and tear and _hurt_.

She was actually crying now. Douglas gave her one last, cold stare and walked past her, out the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good morning, drivers. I hope you are prepared to not make an abysmal impression, for once. Oh, who am I fooling. The client has paid already, so do whatever you want, just get them to safely to Bonaire and back. If there's any troubles, don't call me. With Herc still in Madrid and Arthur with you, this will be my private, three-day holiday and I intend to make it count.” 

Carolyn gave her pilots a 'I-know-as-well-as-you-do-that-you-will-get-in-trouble-but-don't-you-dare-bothering-me with-it'-look before speaking again. “They should be here any minute, but if I go now, I might miss them. Martin, you're in charge. Douglas, stop laughing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some lounging to do.” With that, she turned on the spot and exited the flight deck.

A second later, they heard muffled voices from the cabin, without a doubt Carolyn chastising Arthur about professionalism, why ever she still bothered to do that, and then a clank as she descended the metal stairs.

“Ah, honeymooners. I suggest we make today's cabin address themed. Maybe we could smuggle in love song titles. Or quotes from romantic comedies. Or porn titles, though you'll probably beat me at that...”  
“Ha-ha, very funny, Douglas.” Martin interrupted Douglas' monologue. “You should have become a stand-up comedian, you're about as funny as most.” Obviously Martin was not on the same page as him here. Well, if he were constantly _that_ unlucky, he wouldn't want to hear about it, either.

Still, Martin knew as well as him that it wouldn't go away if only he ignored it long enough. 

“Oh Martin, don't be a spoilsport. Love is in the air, surely, you can't be completely unaffected by that?” 

Douglas grabbed Martin's hand theatrically and looked deep into his eyes, sighing. Martin made a strangled noise and looked at Douglas, expression unreadable. Except for embarrassed, but that was the predominant emotion on Martin's _face all the time._

Of course, Arthur chose that exact moment to barge into the flight deck, their customers in tow. 

“Hey chaps, oh, sorry, Good morning, Sir and... Sir.” Apparently, Carolyn's efforts had borne fruit, with the effect that Arthur now sounded like he wanted to marry them. In a Las Vegas chapel. 

Martin dropped Douglas' hand, but of course they had long seen it. He glanced up and said in his Most Confident Voice (as Douglas had dubbed it, reserved for situations that called for authority): “Good morning, Mr. Anderson and Mrs...” he trailed off as he saw the woman's face.

“Helena.” Douglas finished for him. “Sebastian, what a pleasant surprise.” though his tone suggested anything but that. Quickly, before anyone else could get a word in. “Helena, you've met Martin already, Sebastian, this is Martin Crieff, my Captain and life partner.” 

Martin stared at Douglas, who in turn gave him a 'please- _please_ -play-along-with-me-here'-look. This was indispensable for his well-being. And his pride. 

Either Martin was too shocked or really too decent of a human being for his own good. Or he'd finally taken Douglas' advice on people owing you favours, because Martin gave him a miniscule nod before turning to their customers again.

He put on one of his less awkward smiles (clearly in his mind it exuded confidence) and extended his hand to Sebastian, who looked at him disgustedly, pointedly not shaking it. He and Helena quickly shared a glance of exaggerated shock and horror and exited the flight deck, leaving a confused Arthur, flabbergasted Martin and sighing Douglas behind.

“Arthur, get to the cabin, we're ready for take-off.” Douglas said tiredly. 

“But, chaps...”

“Arthur!” Douglas hissed, who promptly left the flight deck, too.

He turned to Martin again, but didn't speak. Not a problem, Martin did that for him.

“Douglas, what the hell has this been about?”


	3. Chapter 3

Douglas sighed. He felt that the whole upcoming conversation could easily be translated into one long, suffering sigh. But obviously Martin would need the whole story if Douglas was ever going to convince him to play along with him for the next few days. 

How the hell was he going to persuade Martin to play along, let along convincingly?

“I – I guess I have some explaining to do.” he started. Rather lamely, he had to admit.

“You bloody well do! What – what is it with you always wanting to humiliate me in front of people I barely know?” Martin spluttered, now visibly angry.

“Hu- what? Humiliate you? No, Martin, you've gotten the wrong idea!” What was it with people completely misinterpreting his intentions lately? Especially when he just tried to be honest for a change.  
Douglas turned around as much as the confinement of his seat and seatbelt allowed him to. Martin was pointedly not looking at him, apparently having decided to rather enjoy the view of a grey, bleary Fitton Airport in the grey, bleary English April than to look at Douglas. 

“Martin.” he said softly. 

Martin's head snapped around and he glared at Douglas now. When he spoke, his voice was almost not shaking.

“Well, then, do enlighten me. What on earth made you pretend we're... we're...”

“Shagging?” Douglas offered. Martin's eyes grew even narrower at that. Humour was out of this conversation, then.

“Right. Sorry. This is probably the most embarrassing conversation I will ever have in my life and I can't believe I'm having it with you. Well, that I expected, but I always thought the mortification would come second-hand.” He closed his mouth abruptly, taking his face in his hands so he didn't have to see Martin's sad and offended eyes for a minute. He really, really should stop making fun of Martin now. Not only because he wanted to convince the man to help him out, but also because his current face really didn't suit Martin. 

So. Contenance. 

Christ, he really was a bastard.

He tried looking at Martin again, but it didn't work that well, so he lowered his gaze to the downright unsanitary floor of the flight deck before starting to speak flatly. “You know that... a year ago, Helena confessed to cheating on me.” 

He could practically feel Martin's eyes go softer. The man had a particular spot for relationships gone awry, which surprised exactly nobody. “Well, it didn't end as amicably as I might have made it out to have.” He took a deep breath again before he dropped the bomb. 

“I was hurt. Mostly my pride, but I also really loved her. So when she told me about Sebastian”, he gestured towards the flight deck door “I told her about... you.” 

He looked at Martin, who stared at him, mouth open and eyes blown wide with confusion.

“But – but... You and I, we never...” Martin broke off, clearly at a loss of words.

“I know, I know. But you were the first person on my mind so I told her some very nasty and outright cruel things about you and me and the nature of our relationship.”

Martin still looked utterly confused.

“I told Helena that the two of us were having an affair. Since day one. And that we were making fun of her.”

Martin gasped audibly, then narrowed his eyes at Douglas in anger.

“Douglas... You... you cruel, mean – bastard! How dare you do this! I liked Helena, I would have never... I'm not a cheater! I would never try to – to break up a marriage like that!” 

Apparently, the part about them both being men was the least infuriating to Martin. Good to know.

“I know, I know. Neither am I. I've never cheated on Helena. It's just – I was furious.” Douglas' tone was getting more defensive here, he knew, but still. As if he didn't have to deal with the captain's fallout all the time. “And hurt. So I decided to go the immature route and hurt right back. Granted, in retrospective, it was one of my lesser moments, but I can't change it now. So I need your help.”

Indignant gaping was not a good look for Martin, either.

“So you decided to drag me into your dirty business without asking me? Make me sound like I'm one of those people who break a happy home? You're insane, Douglas.”

Trying to smooth over the waves of negative feelings exuded by Martin, Douglas lightly put a hand on Martin's forearm and dipped his head slightly. Maybe body language could do the trick. 

“I know. I told you, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. But please, please, help me out here. Just for two days, just until we're back home. I can't give her the satisfaction. Please.” he looked at Martin, suddenly feeling utterly dull and tired. He was getting old.

Martin laughed dryly.

“I knew your penchant for one-uppance would get you in a tight spot one day.” 

Douglas groaned. Did Martin have to be so moralistic all the time? 

“Please. I'll invite you for dinner, I'll wash your car, I'll give you a foot massage, just... help me here.”

Martin looked at him strangely, then sighed. “Okay.” he said.

“Okay?” Douglas asked. “You mean... you'll do it?”

“Yes. Food's on you. You owe me big time, my call, and you never, ever ask me for a favour again. Or question my decisions as Captain.” Martin looked at him defiantly. 

“Never? That's a bit long. 6 months.” Douglas automatically assumed a bargaining position.

“A year. Last chance.” 

“Deal.” Douglas extended his hand and Martin shook it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've opted for shorter chapters and quicker updates, I hope you're okay with that.
> 
> Also, I've partly rewritten Chapter 2, because the inconsistency of POV was driving me up the walls. It's now all smoothed out and in Douglas' voice, I hope - please inform me if you find any errors. 
> 
> That goes for mistakes in general, by the way - I'm not a native and thus sometimes struggle with incorrect grammar structures/improper use of vocabulary.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

They were in the air and the seatbelts signs were about to go off. 

Martin had been fidgeting in his seat for the whole take-off, now finally reclining slightly before opening his mouth.

“Douglas, I know I've already said yes to helping you, but I... I mean, I don't know – what does it entail?”

Douglas cocked an eyebrow at him. He'd become quite good at reading Awkward Martin and he got the gist of what he wanted to ask, but it couldn't hurt to refine the parameters of their conversation. 

“I believe it entails we pose as a happy couple for two days. Even you have to have had enough experience to do that, don't you?” _Though your acting skills are still abysmal_ was what he didn't add.

Martin looked at him, clearly too preoccupied to be properly offended. Bummer. Then questions started tumbling from his mouth.

“I mean – how far do we go? Do we have to walk around holding hands? What about the airport crew, how liberal is Bonaire, exactly? What do we tell _Arthur_? Oh god, do we – do we have to _kiss_?”

Now it was Douglas' turn to be offended, considering the horror with which Martin treated one of Douglas' favourite pastime activities. The prospect couldn't be that disgusting, could it?

“Well, considering that we have to share a room anyway” because Carolyn was 'sure as hell not going to pay for three rooms in a Honeymoon resort in the Caribbean, who do you think I am, Scrooge McDuck?' - though that would be a _formidable_ nickname, at least behind her back - “the biggest question is already settled. Holding hands could be more convincing, but we don't have to overdo it. After all, we're supposed to have been together for years now. Thus, we can probably forgo it on the airport, there's nothing more awkward than couples holding hands while waiting in customs. And maybe we shouldn't go parading outside waving signs about being gay, but that wouldn't be my style, anyways. Kissing, well, I guess a peck here and there would be” nice. What? Where did that come from? “necessary, but I promise you, I will keep my hands to myself and your virtue intact.” 

Virginity jokes shouldn't be that funny, especially not with a man in his mid-thirties, but Martin always blushed so prettily. He should really find out whether the rumours from the Flap'n'Throttle were true.

Martin nodded. Apparently the man _could_ see reason if he really wanted to. 

“But, what about -”

“Arthur, yes, that might be a problem. Knowing his proclivities for destroying lies instantly and irrevocably, I suggest we do not tell him the truth.”

Martin looked at him disbelievingly. Again. But then, this was a reaction Douglas tended to evoke in people. The British should really work on their creativity, he mused.

“Do you really think Arthur is not going to question us supposedly having had a relationship? For years?” 

Douglas gave him his patented 'how-much-of-a-fool-are-you?” look. Well, one of them. 

“Martin, this is _Arthur_ we're talking about. The only relationships he will ever understand are those of the people in Ipswich, and only if somebody writes a picture book about it.” 

Yes, he had recycled one of Martin's jokes here, but at least he had added one of his own. No points lost. Not that sarcastic communication was a game. 

“So we're just gonna tell him that we kept this a secret for so long why exactly? And then probably crush his heart because two of his favourite people aren't...”

“Doing the horizontal hula?” Right, sex euphemisms directed at Martin were definitely his New Favourite Thing. 

To his astonishment, Martin actually laughed this time. “Are you already so bored you started a word game without me? We haven't even reached cruising altitute yet.” 

Then, earnest again: “Okay. You explain this to Arthur. And deal with the emotions once we're back.” 

Douglas scrunched up his face in mock admiration. “Well done, Martin. You sounded like a Captain there, for a second.”

Before Martin could answer, Douglas announced “We've reached flight... height. I'll turn off the signs, then, and Arthur will probably be here in about forty seconds.” 

He still saw the little smile playing around Martin's lips. What confidence could do to that man.


	5. Chapter 5

As expected, Arthur barged into the flight deck almost immediately after Douglas flicked the switch for the seat belt signs. He looked as confused and happy as a child that just found out that yes, Christmas and his birthday had come together this year. 

“I knew it! Brilliant!” 

Now it was Douglas' turn to be confused. Though he could guess the general topic. 

“What exactly did you know, Arthur?” _Yes, what exactly?_

“I knew you would end up together one day! I always told Mum 'Look Mum, how they look at each other and smile and do everything together' and she just said 'No, Arthur, don't be stupid, they just don't have anything better to do', but she was wrong and I was right and it's just BRILLIANT!”

Martin gave a small muffled yelp, but didn't say anything. This really was Douglas' hour to shine.

“Well, Arthur, you know the saying about dogs and days?”

“No – are there special days for dogs? Like dog years? Do they go faster? Because I've seen a show about dogs once and they said – the people, not the dogs, obviously, dogs can't speak, except Disney dogs, but that's something else – anyways, they said that dogs age so fast that one year for humans is seven years for dogs, so are those dog days actually weeks?” 

Arthur had exclaimed all this rapidly, not pausing for breath once. The colour of his face suggested that maybe he should have done so.

Not trying to make any sense of what he'd just said, Douglas continued, inured by years and years of 'working' together with Arthur. Though they both didn't really work, for two completely different reasons. 

Christ, the rambling was starting to rub off. Expected, really, when constantly confined to such a small space with the two master ramblers Martin Crieff and Arthur Shappey, but uncomfortable all the while. 

Douglas closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, slowly, from side to side, completely aware of the dramatic effect this gesture conveyed. 

“Arthur. I'm not going to repeat this, so listen closely. _You_ were _right_. Your mother wasn't. Martin and I” here he grabbed the other pilot's hand, aware he shouldn't be neglecting casual PDAs, not even with Arthur “have been together for quite some time. We didn't want to tell you and your mother until we were sure it was 'the real deal'' he grinned inwardly because it so much _wasn't_ “but we knew you'd found out so we decided to make it official.” 

He smiled soppily at Martin, then dragged his hand to his mouth and gave it a small kiss.

To his astonishment, Martin didn't even flinch, just smiled at him. Maybe he wasn't that bad of an actor. 

Arthur grinned and started dancing on the spot, shuffling his feet and moving his clenched fists in a circular motion. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it...” 

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Martin piped up, still holding Douglas' hand. It felt absurdly good in his, cool and smooth.

“That's my 'I-was-right'-dance! I invented it when I was fourteen! I always dance it when I'm... well. Right!”

“I wonder why I've never seen it before.” Douglas deadpanned. 

Martin quirked an eyebrow at him. Okay, that one had been obvious. 

“Can I use the ATC?” Arthur asked suddenly, drawing Douglas' gaze away from Martin's face. 

“What for?” Martin asked, wary with the equipment as always, especially around Arthur.

Arthur gave him a 'Skip-isn't-that-obvious'-look. And failed. Utterly. “I want to phone Mum. Because she'll want to know and because I think I might or might not have won something, but I'm not sure what...” he trailed off. “So, can I?”

“I'm sorry, Arthur, but your mother has given us the strictest instructions not to call her, under no circumstances whatsoever.” He gave an apologetic shrug and caught Martin's eye again, who in turn mouthed something along the lines of 'yeah right'. 

Arthur seemed to remember something like this; his face dropped slightly. “Aww, that's too bad. I don't want to wait this long.” 

Before anyone could reply to this, the service bell rang. “Oh, yes, I forgot, I wanted to make coffee. Do you want some, too, chaps?”

Both pilots wanted. Arthur retreated.

Martin turned to Douglas, but dropped his hand. “Well, that was easy.” he grinned, apparently pleased with himself. “Now it's just about your wife.”

“Ex-wife.” Douglas corrected pointedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, I didn't realise this had taken me almost two weeks to write. Arthur really is hard to write, I hope I didn't render him too OOC. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, this took ages; life happened in between. I moved, and then my muse decided to go AWOL and then suddenly EXAMS. Actually, I have one tomorrow. But instead of learning, I finally finished this chapter. 
> 
> I honestly don't know how long it'll take me to finish the rest of this, but I'm pretty positive it's going to be a bit faster from now on. I'm done with uni for this year and actually have time for writing. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's still sticking around to read this, and to anyone who's actually also reading little red warning lights - there's another chapter coming up, too. 
> 
> I still don't have a beta, so if there's anything wrong, please point it out.

Seven hours later brought them to Bonaire Airport, where a very flustered Martin dealt with the double strain of putting up with customs and Douglas constantly touching him (in a very chaste manner, admittedly). 

From the other queue, Helena was glaring at them, not even trying to hide her contempt. This probably wasn't what she had expected from her honeymoon planning trip, but then, she'd always liked leaving arranging business matters to other people. Had she helped Sebastian, they wouldn't have ended up flying MJN Air, because she probably would never forget those three letters. 

Especially not after this whole endeavour. 

Douglas looked at Martin, who was still arguing with the customs official over a small dent in his passport. By now, Martin had pulled out his piloting licence and his company ID. Unbelievably, the words 'I am a captain' had not been uttered yet, and Douglas was indefinitely displeased with it. 

It seemed Martin wanted to astonish him today. 

Well, that could go both ways. He put his hand on the small of Martin's back and leaned in, aware of the metaphorical daggers shooting into the back of his head from the other queue. 

“Do you need help dealing with this?” he asked. Martin blushed, as expected. One point for him.

“No, thank you, Douglas, I'm perfectly capable of getting through customs on my own”, Martin replied, flustered and just a tad bit too loud. Oh well, now they had clouds on the horizon. That had to be rectified immediately.

Douglas leaned in closer and gave Martin a small peck on the cheek. That much had to be allowed; theoretically, they were on Dutch territory. 

Martin tensed, but that couldn't be seen from the other queue. Luckily, Douglas was quite a bit broader than Martin. Not that he was fat, no, for a man his age, he was in fantastic shape, Martin was just very, very skinny. Delicate, almost, especially his hands as they tapped onto the desk embarrassedly. 

Apparently, the customs official had been made uncomfortable enough to let them pass with only last minor glances to their passports.

A good trick, he really should be keeping that one in mind.

As soon as they were through the barrier and out of Helena's earshot and sight, Martin rounded in on Douglas.

“You said not in the airport!” he spluttered. “That was completely unprofessional and embarrassing!”

“It did get us through customs quicker, didn't it?” Douglas replied, deliberately oblivious to Martin's obvious discomfort.

“I don't care if it gets us into Buckingham palace, you want me to help you with your charade, you play by the rules we set.” 

“Shh, quiet!” Douglas hadn't really been sure how to answer to that, because technically, Martin did have a point there, but in true 'Richardson luck' fashion, Arthur was approaching, interrupting their little domestic.

“Hey, chaps, you took ages!” 

He was walking up to them, quickly, a short, overweight man in ill-fitting uniform in tow. “This is Diederijk, he's told me a lot about the island already, there's so much history. And he's giving us a great deal if we take his cab to the hotel! Isn't that brilliant?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so that probably was the worst taxi ride I've ever experienced.” Martin said after they'd gotten out the malicious vehicle taking them over extremely narrow serpentine roads at an unholy speed, the driver unfazedly humming show tunes all the while.

“Well, I don't know, I think Moscow still holds the award for that.”

Douglas still remembered the ride in the unlicensed cab, apparently there were very few official cabs in Russia. They'd been in constant fear the car was going to fall apart while the driver informed them cheerily in a mixture of broken English and fluent Russian that he'd been a soldier in Afghanistan in the 90s and how much fun it had been shooting people. 

He'd never been more relieved to get out of a car, especially because he suspected he'd been the only one to fully understand what the cabbie was saying. That was the drawback of knowing a bit of almost every language. 

“Oh, yes, that one. I try to repress that memory, if possible.” Martin chuckled, the two of them sharing a brief look of easy humour between them. 

“I don't know, chaps, I think it was brilliant.” Arthur interjected, waving after the absconding taxi. 

“And isn't that a surprise.” 

“No, I mean, the way he acted. I almost believed he was really driving.”

Cue raised eyebrows, one pair black, the other ginger. 

“Come on, Douglas, Skip, don't try to wind me up, we all know that cars are pulled by wires when driving over narrow paths. And I looked really hard, but I just couldn't see it. Maybe that's a tourist attraction here, invisible wires.” 

“Yes, that's probably it. Perhaps you can find someone to give you more information on that?” Douglas offered as they walked up to the hotel's front desk.

“I will. Oh, I bet I can buy a guide book somewhere!” And with that, Arthur snatched the offered key card to his room and dashed off.

“Well, Captain, it seems we finally are alone.” Douglas said seductively, leading the way to the elevators. 

Martin swallowed. “Douglas, stop it. You don't need to do that, it's just me.”

But it was so much fun. Martin almost looked flustery again.

“Come on, let's drop our stuff and have dinner. I'm starving.”


End file.
